


The Dollhouse

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: Banned Together Bingo 2020 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Captivity, Crying, Dean Winchester (mentioned) - Freeform, Electrocution, Food Issues, Forced Starvation, Gen, Graphic Description, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Jack Kline (mentioned) - Freeform, Kidnapping, Mind Games, Pain, Pick Who Gets to Eat, Starvation, TFW 2.0, Torture, hunger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28829586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Sam, Dean, and Jack are captured by an unknown foe. Days later, Sam is led to more torture. He must make a choice: who gets food today?
Series: Banned Together Bingo 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916230
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	The Dollhouse

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Banned Together Bingo 2020. Prompt: Poor Nutrition
> 
> This is a bingo, folks! I'll probably still do more prompts though. This is fun!
> 
> Yes, I based this one-shot off of _Pretty Little Liars_. Go wild, my dudes.

Nothing but gray met Sam’s eyes. Gray. Gray.

Gray.

His clothes had been taken from him days ago; he’d woken up naked feeling drowsy and sick. Thankfully other clothes had at least been provided for him. They were the same stupid gray, as if color was to be erased from the world.

Concrete surrounded him. Walls. Ceiling. Floor. The space was about the size of his bedroom in the bunker, if a little bigger. Sam twisted his fingers, and bit at his nails, worry knotting up his gut. He wished to pace, but his sore muscles stopped him dead in his tracks. To put it frankly, Sam felt like he’d been hit by a truck, and as if his insides had been turned inside out and fried on a blacktop.

He’d walked to this room, but that had used all his energy.

How sick was it that he had to walk to the very room he was to be tortured in? He was led by other doors being locked, by this one being the only option. He had tried not leaving the bedroom provided for him at one point when his door had first begun to open like clockwork, and his punishment had come through the form of his family. He heard Dean take torture that should’ve been for him. So now Sam was a good doll and did what he was supposed to.

A voice that was quickly growing familiar soon said over an intercom, “Sit in the chair.”

There was a metal chair provided, a table. There were buttons on it. Sam already knew what they would do.

Groaning, limbs shaking, Sam got himself into the chair.

Not for the first time he wondered who it was that had captured them. Who was torturing them? This seemed like something a demon would do, but it had the style of a human. Sam couldn’t think of who it could be. He didn’t know who spoke through the intercom, and it was even possible the voice had been changed through some work of machine or magic.

Maybe it didn’t matter who had captured them. What mattered was they couldn’t get out.

Three red buttons sat before Sam on the table.

“You know the drill,” the voice told him. “Today’s game will be about food. The rules are as follows: choose who gets food for today. Anyone not chosen will not receive food until their chance arises when the game is played again. You have one minute.”

He eyed the button with Jack’s name under it, and then Dean’s. He dare not look at his own.

Sam’s stomach grumbled. It seemed to pull in on itself, emptiness cutting a hole through him.

It’d been four days since he’d been allowed to eat.

God, he was so hungry.

So, so hungry.

The seconds counted down on a verbal timer.

“Forty-two.”

Jack needed food, though not as much. Could he get away with not giving his son food? Dean needed food. When was the last time he’d had it? There was no way for Sam to know. And did he himself deserve food?

Surely Sam hadn’t been good to his family.

Two days before Sam had chosen himself to get water instead of Dean, or Jack. And then he’d later chosen for Dean to get electrocuted instead of himself. His screams still rang in his head.

Earlier in the day he’d been electrocuted. He still didn’t know who had chosen him for the torture. Maybe it didn’t matter.

The pain made him hate. And he didn’t know who to hate.

The hunger made him hate.

Maybe he should…

“Twenty-nine seconds,” the timer reminded him.

Sam’s hand inched towards Dean’s button.

_When was the last time he had food?_

_But what if Jack needs food? Does Jack need food? When did he last eat? I can’t know._

_I’m so hungry._

“Seventeen seconds.”

_Maybe if I just close my eyes…_

No, it was never as easy as that. Sam knew where the specific buttons were and whose names they stood for. Even with his eyes open he could barely do it. There he sat, shaking, sweating, heart palpitating in his chest like an angry, caged bird.

“Fifteen seconds.”

_If I don’t choose, none of us gets food._

_How am I supposed to choose?_

“Fourteen.”

“Thirteen.”

“Twelve.”

“Eleven.”

Sam couldn’t breathe, his lungs simply refusing to work.

“Ten.”

_What do I do?_

“Nine.”

His stomach practically roared at him, aching.

“Eight.”

He’d hurt Dean.

“Seven.”

Maybe he didn’t deserve food.

“Six.”

His family did.

“Five.”

Jack was a kid.

“Four.”

But Dean was human.

“Three.”

Letting out a cry, Sam slammed his hand down on Dean’s button. The disembodied voice through the intercom said, “Thank you for choosing.” Yet Sam could barely register it. He just held his breath against his sobs.

The door opened. He would be led to his room now. In pain, hungry as all hell, he shuffled down the hallway, tears blurring his vision.

His stomach was a yawning pit within him.


End file.
